Fat guy

Fat guy goes through the chimney

Fat guy eat milk and cookies

When Fat guy try to squeeze his fat butt

Through the chimney he burns his fat butt

Next time he should put out the fire then go down

Actually when you leave milk and cookies

The cookies he eats and the milk he buts on his butt

So he can put out the flames

Ouch

When fat guy fly with reindeer they actually aren’t reindeer

There mechanical robot built with motion and sorrowed sound noise

Now who feels like the dummy now?

Yah that right you

Bye, Bye

Losers

‘Dissing’ on Santa

Christmas is Christmas

Ornaments are ornaments

Light are light

So Santa clause is just some dumb fat guy

Wasting his money on toys

What kind of idiot does that

Nope only Santa clause

And what’s up with his elves

There just small people dressed up

Just like dorks

Poor elves

They are like slaves all you need is a whip

And Santa clause saying go my pets (whip)

Finished

Mexican poem

My mom and dads, uncles and aunt

And there mom and dads, uncles and aunt

They are great

My family is from Mexico

One thing my family has done when baby is born

The mother and father would have a bracelet

And a necklace made of gold

My family is from Mexico and we eat Mexican food

We eat enchiladas and gesso fresco and sometimes even tacos.

My mom’s brothers and sisters had kids either in Chicago or Mexico so far

And I from Chicago to I like my family the way they are

And you should to.

No

Garbage

Garbage is bad

And garbage is trash

And a lot of Trash is garbage

What ever it is its is really sticks

Garbage is a monster and says smash

It’s a hat lost at sea

Peoples walk by it

Have to try to clean

It doesn’t ever die

It’s like a mouton

Soon you’ll cry and

Later in outer space

Huston say people

We have a problem

Now garbage hates

You and so do I to so

 Bye, bye

Poems are lame

Why do we write poems there so ghetto

They are me in a huge meadow

A poem should shred itself once written

Poems die quickly and also light bulbs

I hate poems and so do you

Poems aren’t cool and so isn’t blues clues

Poems are for Barany lovers

You hate poems as much as I hate you

Who is my donkey?

My donkey hates you

When he blows its smells that’s my donkey

Who is my donkey?

My donkey where a part of my pants

Sometime he makes noise

Oh no he said he know your ugly face

Who is my donkey?

My donkey is really is my but